


Dropped from Heaven

by ratherbehere



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:10:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherbehere/pseuds/ratherbehere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel simply transforms when storms roll in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dropped from Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Written for impalastiel on tumblr, as a follower thank you fic. The prompt was "storm chasers."

The window panes shudder with the force of the thunder rolling outside and Castiel’s hips judder with it. He moans into Dean’s shoulder long and hard before resuming his unyielding pace. 

Dean’s just glad this storm system had zero chance of producing cyclones, or they’d have to be outside in it, documenting the storm up close and personal. All this one required was some monitoring in the lab, which Sam was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Thank god. When a storm hits like this, Castiel _transforms_. And what he becomes in bed is something Dean is grateful only he gets to see.

It all started shortly after Cas had fallen. They were working a case in Kansas, standing on a quaint little porch talking to a widow when a storm rolled in from nowhere. Within seconds the sky went from clear to grey, and suddenly, a twisting, roaring cyclone was bearing down on them. It took Dean a few confused minutes in the widow’s basement to realize Cas hadn’t followed them. He found him standing in the front lawn, staring at the oncoming beast with eyes like wildfire. Dean had never seen such a look on his friend’s face. He had to drag Cas inside and force him into the basement, where Cas stood transfixed, his hand placed on the shaking wood of the door.

They thankfully did not have any more chance close encounters with the twister kind, but Castiel had changed. Every storm that rolled into whatever town currently claimed their residence found Castiel standing in the down pouring rain with his face to the skies. Even when he couldn’t be in the thick of it, it was clear the crashes of thunder and flashes of lightning and sheer force of the storm enthralled Castiel’s mind and soul. He first made love to Dean deep in the clutches of a massive multi-cell system, and it was sex unlike Dean had ever known.

Basking in the afterglow, Dean had turned to Cas and asked him just what it was about thunderstorms that got to him so much. When Cas replied that being in the heart of such raw power and energy was the closest he felt to being an angel again, to feeling the strength of heaven and fury of his father, Dean’s heart clenched and he knew that was that, they’re lives would change. They transitioned slowly from hunting monsters to hunting cyclones. Though they still hunted monsters from time to time, researching the science behind tornadoes quickly became their full time job. Dean knew Sam reasoned that studying the storms lead to saving lives every bit as much as slicing up vamps. Dean just saw it as a much earned vacation. This job was a hell of a lot more fun. 

And when a storm rolled through with its electrical currents and pulsating energy, Castiel transformed, and he was as close to an angel as his now human self could ever be. He was beautiful, radiating the unearthly intensity that had captivated Dean from the very beginning.

An intensity that is almost always focused on Dean.

A bolt of lightning goes off so close that the thunder shakes the foundation of the room, a lamp rattling on the table, and the electricity snapping off with a click. It’s a boom that would normally unsettle even the bravest of men, but Castiel simply growls again, grips Dean tighter, and folds him in on himself, thrusting even harder. 

“Fuck, baby,” Dean groans, digging his fingers into Castiel’s back, trying to hold on. There’s a strain to his muscles that he hardly notices. The angle is perfect now, and the drag of Castiel’s dick inside him lights every nerve ending on fire. As the sky rumbles and the air zings with electricity, so does Dean’s body. “Cas,” he mumbles, “M’close.”

Those words are usually code for, “Touch me please, I need to come like yesterday,” but Castiel is so lost to the throws of the storm that he barely registers Dean’s words. His nails scrape Dean’s thighs before gripping so tightly, there will be finger shaped bruises tomorrow. Castiel is close as well, close enough that when the next ground shaking boom hits, he throws his head back and comes deep inside Dean, his mouth and eyes open with his silent scream. 

Dean is left panting and on edge, jittery with adrenaline and need to release. A needy whine escapes his lips and Cas suddenly, sharply pulls out, drops Dean’s legs, and sucks his cock down his throat. It only takes seconds for Dean to come, white light blinding his vision. The room rattles and his heart pounds with the roar of thunder, letting him know that this time at least, the white out was due to lightning, not his orgasm.

Afterwards, they lie panting in the dark, watching the room flash with light and letting the crashes of thunder rumble through their bodies. Dean may not have ever been an angel, but he thinks he understands perfectly why the ferocity of a raging thunderstorm makes Cas feel like one again.

Sometimes, when they’re in the heart of a perfect storm, he thinks he feels like one too.


End file.
